Microwave Ovens
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Why does Henry not like microwaves? Written for VanillaJ1967.


**Disclaimer****: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS!**

* * *

_c. 1971_

* * *

Henry stood at his bookshelf, taking books down and flipping through the pages – looking for something. Looking through all of the books and not finding the object, he frowned and turned to survey the room. He looked up as he heard Abe come in, home for the weekend from school.

"Good morning, Abe!"

"Hi, Dad." He answered, disappearing into the kitchen – from which Henry had been banned from the day.

The doctor was curious, and studiously trying not to think about what his son might be doing in there. He knew Abe had gotten a new tool for the kitchen and wanted to try it, and Henry couldn't help but worry that something would go terribly wrong. However, in respect to his son's wishes and the unspoken agreement that Abe ruled the kitchen, Henry refrained from meddling or investigating.

He sighed. Hearing Abe moving and clattering in the kitchen, he checked the time – still nearly an hour until lunch. He returned to his search, but soon gave up and collapsed into a chair. He knew he needed to find that letter before anyone else – namely, his son – stumbled across it; but he had no idea where to begin looking after he had already checked all of the obvious places.

After a few more minutes of searching through his bedroom again, he frowned. Abe had gone out of the house again nearly five minutes ago, but the doctor could smell smoke. Following the smell to the kitchen, he hesitated. Surely Abe wouldn't have left the food alone and burnt it – but an incident could also escalate rapidly. Making his decision, he opened the kitchen door and entered, immediately choking on the thick smoke throughout the air.

Looking around for the source, he was able to see flames on the counter. Not knowing what sort of fire it was, he grabbed a towel to smother the fire. Just then, he heard the door slam open, and Abe running into the house.

"Dad!"

"Yes, I realise that I am in the kitchen – what have you done?"

Abe grabbed the towel from Henry, opening up the door of a metal box and beating out the flames inside. "I may...accidentally...forgotten that I can't put metal into an electric oven..."

Henry paused in his mission of opening the windows to air out the room, turning back to his son. "All of this was because you put metal inside of an electric oven?"

Abe nodded, carefully scraping the charred remains from the metal box and dumping them into the sink, running water over them. He pulled a glass cup from the cupboard and filled it with water, placing it back in the electric oven. Seeing what he was about to do, Henry reached out to stop him.

"Abraham! Don't do that!"

Abe sighed as the oven stubbornly refused to start. "It's broken – it won't cook anymore."

"Thank goodness!" Henry finished opening the windows. Taking the hand towel used to smother the fire, he threw it away after seeing that the damage was too bad. Coughing in the smoke, he took Abe's arm and pulled him outside, sitting on the doorstep and gratefully breathing the clean air.

* * *

They sat there together for a few moments, letting the house air out. Looking at each other, they burst into laughter. The situation, and the results of the mistake raised up many memories of misadventures for both of them; so – while the situation itself was hardly worth the glee – their past of humourous mistakes and misunderstandings was. It was a welcomed moment of joy after a long, tiring year.

"Let's not do this...ever...again." Henry gasped out between laughs, nearly doubled over.

Abe nodded, finally catching his breath to reply, "I agree. Next time I'll remember."

Henry abruptly sat up, jerking to look at his son with surprise and faint horror in his eyes."_Next_ time?"

Abe turned to the doctor in confusion. "Why not?"

"Firstly, that thing nearly started a fire!"

"It did start a fire." Abe interjected.

"A larger fire." He corrected himself, continuing, "And do you know what it does to the food? It destroys any nutrients found in the food, and is likely leaking harmful radiation of sorts! If man was intended to use microwaves to prepare food, then certainly we would have done it before."

"Henry – technically, it would be _more_ nutritious since it just zaps the food and uses less water."

"Abe. You're not convincing me. Ever. And 'zaps' the food? Are you trying to discourage me?"

"But Henry, it's said to be more efficient and -"

"Yes, I'm sure. Can you not cook well on the stove?"

"Of course I can, but..."

"No – can we please never have anything like this again? Please? Just chalk it up to an old man's whim, and humour me..."

Abe started to argue, but at Henry's pleading look gave in and laughed. "Fine. It would be too expensive to replace it anyway."

Henry sighed in relief. "Thank you..." He relaxed. Looking back into the house and seeing decidedly less smoke, he got up from the door step.

As he returned into the house, Abe called after him: "The letter you were looking for is in your suitcase with your notebook and her picture!"

Henry froze for a second before shutting the door behind him after saying, "Thank you, Abe."

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

Jo took some food out of her fridge. Abe and Henry had come over to visit for the night, and she was fixing them dinner. Pulling out some leftovers, she transferred appropriate servings to glass plates, preparing to rewarm them in the microwave. Henry was passing by the door to her kitchen at the moment she started the microwave, and Abe grinned at the horrified expression that passed over the doctor's face.

"_Please_ tell me you have more food besides what you have just ruined..."

Startled, she spun around. She narrowed her eyes at him, and snapped back, "I'll have you know that I am a good cook – it is _not_ ruined."

"Detective! Of course it's ruined – there is no way to salvage it!"

Jo stared at him in shock. As she opened her mouth to yell at him, Abe took pity on Henry and interfered.

"Jo, it's nothing against you – he just hates microwaves. Claims they ruin everything and anything."

Her mouth snapped shut as she finally understood that Henry was not insulting her personally. "Oh."

Henry shuddered. "Claims... They do." He pulled off his scarf and coat and laid them aside. "May I cook dinner?"

"Sure, if you'd like – but you're a guest -"

"No, I insist. If you wish, you may eat...that." He gestured towards the microwave.

She smiled. "Henry, what has a microwave ever done to you that you hold such a grudge."

Silence held sway for several seconds before Abe disappeared back to the living room laughing and Henry answered, "It's a _very_ long, traumatizing story – let's just say it was for our health and the safety of our belongings that we banished it."

She stared at him in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant. Suddenly, comprehension spread across her face and she started laughing. "You put metal in it, didn't you!"

He glared at her before returning to his search of her cupboards. "'Mock me not...'"

* * *

_AN: My apologies for the sheer pointlessness of this story. It was written for a friend after discussion of how food fights with cookie dough was fun, which then turned to a discussion of cooking and deteriorated from there. However, if you're cooked food in the microwave and there was foil in there and blue lightening and flames filled the electric oven - then you will be able to understand how that may turn people off from ever using it. And the letter mentioned here is meant to be the letter Abigail left Henry. Sorry, I keep linking these... But nevertheless! I congragulate you if you got through that, and thank you for taking the time to read it! Gramercy, God bless!_


End file.
